Existence Itself
by The Spell Was Cast
Summary: Slightly slanted future fic in which two female hunters travel one generation back in time expressly to meet Dean and Sam.  I know it sounds like a completely painful MarySue piece of crap, but have a little faith, okay?


* * *

"Turn around slowly and tell me that's not who I think it is."

'_Of all the times…'_

Of all the times that they actually had to be focused on a job; when every move they made had to be executed with military precision; when hunting and only hunting could be on their minds; of all the times…

"Holy crap! Is that Santos Vargas?"

"I think it is."

Generally, Ellie tried not to get sucked into this stuff. She knew, more than anyone, the delicate nature of temporal mechanics. The ripples caused by even minor -

" - Multi-platinum selling, Grammy Award winning, hip-hop don, Santos Vargas? The father of modern-day - "

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Holy crap."

"Yeah."

"I mean, holy crap!"

"Yeah. I know."

"You don't think we could… um…?"

"We probably shouldn't."

"But _theoretically_ we _could?_"

"He's on my list, yeah."

This was definitely an unforeseen circumstance. Surely the guys back home would be able to understand. SANTOS-_freaking_-VARGAS. If they got the chance the men-folk would totally take the opportunity to meet Marilyn Monroe or Toni North or whoever before they were famous. Back when they had low standards and low self-esteem and only a minor drug habit.

Ellie slapped both hands mercilessly against her face making an audible clap. She could feel the familiar heat of a blush appearing on her skin. Yes, she was going to meddle with the passage of time and possibly unmake a substantial amount of existence itself but at that moment all she could think about was meeting _him_.

She felt like a fifteen-year-old loser waiting to get into a Justin Timberlake concert but the only thought swimming around her mind was: _'Why didn't I bring my 'Love Another' poster and get it autographed?'_

"I guess you'll just have to settle for him signing your chest." Chev said, pretty much reading her mind. It was becoming a regular thing, actually. She wasn't a real psychic but spending 24 hours a day with a person tended to breed a certain amount of familiarity.

It was only really a half-joke. And in acknowledging this, the girls shared a guilty smirk between them. Awkwardly, they shuffled out of their booth - not being much used to diners - and walked over to the crummy Formica table at which their idol was eating.

And he was eating one of those big greasy burgers. One made from a non-traditional meat animal, which apparently came with a side of thick-cut fries and a wilted, commercially packaged salad. Ellie made the mental note.

Five yards away from his table, four, three, two -

The hip-hop _god _had just looked up. His earnest, intense and frankly beautiful green-eyed stare was just about settling on them when…

When…

That annoying bell jingled over the door one more time. It was, like, the seventeenth time the chime had sounded since the two girls had walked in to the diner. But this time - well - good things just didn't happen to them anyway.

Two men had just walked in. It was time to get back on topic. Back to the hunt. Meeting a living-legend would just have to wait until the next time they were traveling back in time.

"Hey: next time we go to a Jay-Z concert, okay?"

"Hm."

The only problem - the only real problem now - was that these two men - the two guys they had spent all weekend tracking down and all morning waiting for - had _no idea _that they were meeting today. They had no idea they would be meeting ever, actually.

The taller of the two men now put all his weight on his elbows and forearms as he leant against the counter, feigning to look up at the menu board. He was young (early/mid-twenties), had dark hair that hung low over his eyes, and had a massive frame that, in the right circumstances, might have looked imposing.

The shorter guy was by no means short. Easily over six feet. One of those pretty guys: wide eyes, long lashes, full lips. The whole deal. He was in the process of sweet talking a waitress. It wasn't entirely clear whether he was trying to get down her pants or score a free meal. When she handed him a slice of pie and a scrap of paper it was pretty clear that this was one of those 'two birds with one stone' situations.

The taller guy glared at him with only slightly amused disbelief.

The taller guy? The shorter guy? It seemed that a part of Ellie was afraid to call the Sam and Dean. Even silently in her own head. She knew who they were. And they didn't look so different; less gray hair, fewer scars. Otherwise it was completely them. Sam and Dean. Dad and Uncle Dean.

"Back to work?" Chev asked, flatly.

"Mm."

* * *


End file.
